Abstract
Lord What's-His-Name Opposite the bare facts of the life and list of the family in the little pamphlet the funeral home printed up was "Sunset and evening star and one clear call for me...." The line of the fold made it a kind of contest, on the left, art's undying tidal rhythms and rhymes and on the right—spouse, children, the perishing flesh. But someone, the funeral director?, had taken license, I guess funeral directors are the ultimate editors, and lopped out the darker middle two stanzas the quicker to get to the Pilot with the capítol "P" and reassure the death-dogged believers in their belief. In this land-locked little town, some had never seen the sea, and I, who knew just one edge—bath-warm Myrtle Beach— fretted about that long, grey stretch of ocean to be crossed. It was so vast and undrinkable, so out of imagination's reach. 80 ...
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